


Once a Splinter, Now a Chasm

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Anatomy of a Monster [5]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Sex, M/M, The Hannigram is all in passing and implied, Unresolved feelings all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after chapter 14 of <i>A Fascination of Tongues</i>.</p><p>Beverly can't remember when she last slept, and her fatigue has crept its way into Alana's bones as well. While Will has sought comfort in the arms of Hannibal, the two are left to work through their own feelings and terrors from the ordeal at the farm house, and attempt to find a sort of stunted comfort within each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once a Splinter, Now a Chasm

**Author's Note:**

> The Bevlana has been picking up in _A Fascination of Tongues_ , but sadly because if follows mostly Will, and on occasion Hannibal, there's a lot between Alana and Beverly that we miss. This was a key part that I knew I couldn't include in the fix- so it gets it's own! Besides, I really like these two...it's about time I gave them more focus.
> 
> If you have not finished chapter 14 of _A Fascination with Tongues_ , I wouldn't recommend reading this.
> 
> Also, as stated above, Will and Hannibal are only mentioned, so the Hannigram is all discussed and implied.

Beverly had rested her forehead against the window as Alana drove through the night’s rain. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, as they pulled up to Will’s dark house. It was strange, to be locked into a car with her not chatting away about something, without her smile, her glittering dark eyes. It made Alana’s stomach sink.

She killed the engine and didn’t say anything as she got out, hurrying through the wet grass up onto the porch. She shook her hair, the loose water falling free, and dug a key out of her purse. She had given up using the spare and Will had given her one, since it seemed she was stopping by so often. There might have been something intimate about it, if the reason for her frequent visits were so different.

She opened the screen door, unlocked the main, and was met by the dogs rousing from their spots, greeting her with wagging tails. They, too, were accustomed to her visits, and knew the routine. They slipped out past her, crowding on the porch to stare out at the rain was it drizzled down.

“Go on,” she encouraged, “be quick about it.” She waved her hands and they moved, rushing out, and she hung back, eyes drifting back to the car. Beverly had moved her head, was staring out the wind shield now, at nothing in the dark. Alana felt cold, and it wasn’t from the rain, the wind. It was from the absence of life in the woman she has grown so used to bursting with it. Beverly had been different when Will was there, she had had something in her, but it seemed to leak out when she had embraced him, had held him in a way Alana wanted to hold him still.

That itself hurt the spots between her ribs.

Lou and Henry were the first two to return to the porch, their little bodies shaking. Alana let them in and whistled for the other dogs, watched them bound up towards her. She had to call to Buster, who seemed more interested in exploring out in the rain than doing his business and getting back in for the night. His little legs finally carried him up the steps and into the house, and Alana followed. She crept into the kitchen, checked their water and quietly poured some dry food into their bowls. She had no intention of setting any sort of early alarm in the morning, and wanted to make sure they had something to tide them over until she made her way back.

She relocked the door and made her way back to the car, slipping in and reaching up with one hand to pat some of the rain water from her hair. Beverly’s eyes slid over to her, and Alana held her gaze for a moment, her heart jumping at finally getting a connection. When Beverly finally looked away, she still reached over, settling her hand over Alana’s for a brief moment, before retracting it so Alana could pull the car back onto the road.

*

Beverly stuffed her hands into her pockets as she made her way up Alana’s steps and to her door. The doctor unlocked it, and they were met by Applesauce at the door, wagging her tail happily at them. Alana cooed at her, and led her outside, while Beverly slipped into the dark house. It was quiet around her, even as the door shut, sleeping in a wet, rainy dream world.

She slipped her shoes off but didn’t turn the lights on. She knew the layout well enough in the dark. She made for the stairs, headed up them, and straight for the bathroom. The rain had soaked into her, clung to her, left her feeling like she had a layer of film over her skin. Underneath it her sweat had dried, the adrenaline of holding her gun in her hand, of rushing into a strange house and knowing, _knowing_ there was a monster waiting inside.

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes when she realized, for a moment, she wasn’t sure who that monster was. There were two faces, one living, and one dead, and she couldn’t reconcile which was the thing she should be hunting.

She turned the shower on, scalding hot, and worked her shirt open, peeling it off. She had left the light off, and undressing in the dark felt private, secure. One everything had been peeled away, she stepped into the water, pushed it up over her face and ran it back through her loose hair. She ached from her lack of sleep, and the water worked at the tension within her muscles, made them feel loose, relaxed, liquid under skin.

Beverly screwed her eyes shut again, saw Will with his gun pointed at Bradley Madison. There was a shotgun on the floor, discarded, well out of reach, and Bradley was cradling his broken hand. She remembered hearing the blast, she remembered her heart leaping into her throat because she had been terrified, _petrified_ , climbing those stairs and thinking that it had taken Will, it had embedded metal into his belly and plucked him straight from her world. She imagined his dead eyes and holding his head in her lap, playing with his curls and bending over him, tears trickling down onto his plaid shirt. She imagined having to stand on Hannibal’s doorstep and look the brilliant man in the eyes and tell him _Will was gone_.

Her breath left her in a small, broken sound- one she was glad no one was there to hear. She told herself that hadn’t happened- she had held Will in her arms before he left, she had tugged him close and begged him to let Hannibal help. Let Hannibal heal him. Let Hannibal make it right.

Her vision reset, and the shotgun had never opened Will’s belly. He was holding the gun to Bradley Madison one again, and he was talking but the words were unclear, until he had said, _I’m far better than you_ , and pulled the trigger. She had watched the bullet sear into his skull, open him up, the way his body had jerked, slumped. Will had crouched down, intimately close, and he could have spoken, he could have only stared- she wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure if the disturbance she had heard was only him breathing.

When he had stood, turned, his eyes had been pure black steel, the blue had leaked out, left them pupil framed in a grey that was beautiful and terrifying. For a moment, she didn’t recognize the man staring at her, the man who has wormed his way into her ribs and took up a special compartment in her heart, who liked to tap on the organ as it beat until it tickled and she was laughing. Yet she hadn’t felt fear. She had felt awe, because he had done what she knew, somewhere inside her, she wanted to. She simply had a barrier that kept her from pulling the trigger, not when her own life was secure, not when the shotgun was safely pushed away.

She had wanted to kill the sick bastard, and she didn’t hurt because he was gone. She hurt because Will had scaled the wall she couldn’t, and what she had seen in those eyes told her the wall was something long forgotten.

*

Alana wasted time after she brought Applesauce back inside. She heard the shower running, but saw no lights on. She walked to the kitchen, flicked the light on and set the kettle on the stove, tossing Applesauce a treat before settling at her kitchen table, reaching down to pet her as she sat next to her, always the small warm presence when Alana needed it.

She wanted to go upstairs. She wanted to jump into the shower with Beverly, clothes on, and force her to look at her. She wanted to ask what had thrown off the balance in her head space, what sort of schism had fractured her sweet psyche. It was heart breaking to see Will undone, but it was beyond unnerving to see Beverly in the same state.

When the kettle whistled she stood up, grabbed two mugs from the cupboard- porcelain, a beautiful blue decorated with whine points of white design, and settled two tea bags into them, pouring the hot water over, before setting everything aside. She took a deep breath then, and forced herself to walk to the stairs, ascended slowly in the dark, hand on the railing, and walk to the bathroom.

She rapped her knuckles against the door twice, called softly, “Bev?” And got a small sound in response, a muffled _yes_. She tried the knob, found it unlocked, and let herself into the dark room. Her eyes had been adjusting, and she should see Beverly behind the fogged up glass door to her shower, just a black silhouette set to more black. Alana settled down on the toilet seat, leaning her forearms onto her legs and just sitting in silence. The air was warm, damp, but she kind of liked it. She still felt damp from the rain, but at least this was warm.

“I made some tea,” Alana finally offered, “When you’re done.” She didn’t get a response, and blindly, without looking, she reached out, pressed her fingertips to the glass, wishing it would dissolve and she could touch the woman behind it. When she looked up, Beverly had turned, her own finger tips pressing to the ghosts of Alana’s. Alana couldn’t see her face, everything was distorted by the glass and the fog, but her lips quirked up for a brief moment, before she stood and left Beverly in the dark.

*

Alana had only been gone a minute, had barely made it down the stairs, when Beverly turned the water off. She wrung the water from her hair, pulled the glass door open and stared at the dark bathroom. There was a towel sitting atop the toilet seat where Alana had previously been, and a faint smile finally crossed Beverly face. She reached for it, patting the water from her body, before she worked on drying her hair as she made her way, naked, from the bathroom and into the dark hallway, towards Alana’s bedroom. The room had a bit of a chill to it, and Beverly realized with a frown Alana had left the window cracked open when she had left that morning. She dropped the towel in one of the small, plush teal chairs in the room and slipped past the gauzy white curtains, pulling the window shut and locking it.

The breeze had set goose bumps to her skin, and she shivered. She could smell the rain, it had leaked into the room, chased away the scent of flowers Alana adored so much. Beverly finally turned, walked over to the pale wood dressed and opened one of the center drawers- one she had taken over. She plucked a pair of underwear out, a simple black tank top, and slipped into them, before slipping to the closet and hunting for a pair of sweatpants.

When she finally emerged, she left the bedroom door open so the smell of rain could dissipate. She had been tempted to spray Alana’s perfume into the air, to cleanse the air, but had stopped herself. She’d merely run her hands over the small glass bottle, and imagined how much better it smelled along the curve of Alana’s neck, in her brown waves, against her pale wrists. She sucked in a breath, let it out, then made her way down stairs, bare feet sinking into the carpet.

Alana was still dressed as she had been when they had arrived, sitting at the small table in her kitchen with her wrapped around her mug. She looked up as Beverly settled into the chair next to her, wrapping her own hands around the mug and smiling, albeit small.

“Thanks,” she whispered, inhaling and smelling the tea, letting it sink into her blood. She lifted the mug, took a small sip, still watching Alana over the lip of the mug.

“Do you think Will made it to Hannibal’s yet?” Beverly looked at the clock over Alana’s stove, nodded.

“Yeah.” She watched Alana fidget for her phone, but shook her head. “Alana, don’t. You called Hannibal and let him know about the situation, that was enough. Give Will his space. He needs Hannibal right now- not you, and not me.” Alana pulled her phone out still, then set it on the table, just looking at it. Beverly hesitated, then reached out, grabbing the phone and pulling it away, so it sat in the center of the table. The air felt heavy between them, and Beverly was sure behind Alana’s brilliant eyes was a storm raging just as fiercely as the one inside her own skull. She stood up then, lifting her mug and cradling it close to her chest. “Why don’t we take these to bed,” Beverly suggested, “It was a long day for you, and I would probably offer up my ovaries for a chance at sleep.”

Alana laughed at that, sudden and open, and Beverly couldn’t help it- she smiled, smiled right at Alana as if she had broken the storm in her mind.

*

Alana’s bed always felt a size too big for the two of them to Beverly. She leaned back into the plush pillows, in their perfectly white cases, and sipped the tea, legs unclothed and tangled in the rich, heavy tea blanket. The color scheme to Alana’s room always made her think of fine China, of things she shouldn’t be allowed to touch, lest she breathe too hard and shatter everything. Her sweatpants were pooled on the floor, and the sheets were cool against her legs. Alana had changed into her pajamas, her little green and blue striped pants that seemed far too plain for her. The first time Beverly had seen her in pajamas, she had expected some sort of magnificent night gown that a regal queen would wear.

The thought made her smile, and she tried to hide it by sipping at her tea. Alana had caught it though, was watching her, her own mug almost empty.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, and Beverly’s smile grew. She shrugged a shoulder.

“Oh, nothing.” Alana frowned, gave her a serious look, and Beverly lowered her mug to her lap. “Just thinking about you.”

“What about me?”

“Just that some giant nightgown would be more appropriate than what you’re wearing.” Beverly laughed as Alana huffed her breath, frowning. Her cheeks tinged pink, and she looked so flustered it made Beverly laugh harder, tossing her head back.

Alana reached out, grabbed at her mug and plucked it from her hands, muttering, “Give me that! Before you spill it!” She turned and set both mugs on her bedside table, turned and found Beverly still laughing, raking a hand back through her drying hair. Her eyes had closed, but the way her face seemed to light up in the dark made Alana’s heart speed up for a moment.

Beverly calmed, slowly, shaking her head and wiping at the tears in her eyes. “Sorry, sorry, you’re just always so put together that it’s strange _still_ to see you...casual.” She looked at her, offering up a soft smile. The kind that was very much _Beverly_. It made Alana feel better. “Do you want to read a little?” She nodded towards the lamp that was off, the book resting below it. Alana shook her head. Beverly nodded, then slipped down onto her back, arching and twisting until she was comfortable, one hand slipping under the pillows. Next to her, Alana slipped down as well, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders as she laid on her side, facing Beverly. The blanket stayed pooled around Beverly’s waist.

The silence that fell seemed to permeate the house. Somewhere below, Applesauce was curled up, sleeping. The rain was a calm lullaby outside, pelting along the house, and Beverly could still smell it. In the near dark, she felt Alana watching her, and the silence began to feel heavy, weighing on her chest.

“I’m worried about him,” Alana finally whispered, “About Will.” Beverly said nothing, her hand clutching gently at the sheets below her, by her side. She wanted to reach out and touch Alana- but when Will was on her mind, she always felt that her touches were unwelcome. Often she could push herself past those thoughts, but in this moment, it felt as if Will was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, a heavy presence between them. Beverly wanted to stroke her hands through his curls and shove him off the bed, tell him to get out of their heads.

Only because thinking about him made her ribs close in, and she saw his haunting eyes.

“Me too,” Beverly finally admitted.

“The job is too much. It’s going to break him.” She licked her lips, fingers flexing in the blanket. “He needs to get away from it. I’ve told him to leave, to walk away but...he doesn’t want to.”

“He saves lives.” Beverly’s words echoed Will’s, and she knew it was _exactly_ what he would say. And it was true- yes, she didn’t doubt that- but now, there was something more. Something unspoken there that he was keeping inside his own head. A head Beverly wanted to peek into, but was terrified of the contents. It didn’t matter, she was sure- she never would. Will’s head space was his alone- and Dr. Lecter’s now, now that Will had given him a key of his own.

“At the price of his own.” Alana sighed. Her voice sounded pained as she continued. “I know Hannibal gives him stability, but...what if it isn’t enough?”

“It’s gonna have to be.” Beverly flexed her hand again, still wanted to reach for Alana, but her walls were up- they were always up when they discussed Will. Even more so when Hannibal was included in the conversation. Beverly felt like Alana sat in her castle in that moment, behind thick stone walls and the drawbridge up. Beverly had no way of finding her way in- all she could do was stand outside the walls and call out to her feebly. Beverly didn’t fool herself that Alana was over Will- sure, she said she was, had dared to say as much to Will. She knew Alana _wanted_ to be, but Will was infectious- Beverly understood. He was inside her too, living in her and she couldn’t think of a way to evict him- though she didn’t want to. And she knew, beyond that, there was something for Hannibal as well, a sort of awe Alana had in her eyes when she looked at him.

Seeing the two together probably hurt her more than she would ever admit. Beverly knew, though, Alana would wish no ill will on their relationship- she wouldn’t interfere. Her love was curbed by the desire for her friends’ happiness.

But it still left Beverly locked out. She couldn’t be sure what Alana saw in her. Companionship when she craved it, she supposed. She wouldn’t exactly call what they were dating. Beverly didn’t look for anyone else now- Alana was it, but she didn’t expect the same. She didn’t know if there was a word for this- perhaps affair would cover it, but it didn’t _feel_ right.

“Hannibal loves Will,” Beverly added, “He wouldn’t let anything happen to him. I...I trust him in that.” And Beverly did. She didn’t know him like Alana did, but she had seen enough of the two- seen the way Will lit up with even just a mere mention of the man- to understand that Hannibal was sincere. And that was all she needed.

“I hope you’re right.” Alana’s voice was quiet, and Beverly knew it was the end of the conversation. Without a word she rolled onto her side, facing away from Alana, knowing that between them, Will’s ghost had settled. She felt his body pressing along hers, and wanted to reach through him, gather Alana up and kiss her hair, her eyelids- to hold her until they slept. She wanted to smell the flowers in her hair, and forget the past few days had happened.

Instead, Beverly welcomed sleep in solitude, even with Alana so close she could reach out and touch her.

*

When Alana opened her eyes, there was sunlight streaming in through her thin curtains. She stretched, yawned, pulled the blanket up over her shoulder and stared at the wall. Next to her, Beverly was sound asleep. Alana presumed she would stay that way for some time, considering the amount of sleep she had missed. Quietly, she crept out of bed, gathering their mugs and heading downstairs. It was still early, the clock over her stove telling her it was just after seven, as she settled the mugs in the sink and ran some water in them.

She found Applesauce laying on the couch, and made a little noise, calling the dog to the door. She stepped onto the porch, Applesauce trotting passed and onto the grass. Alana folded her arms over her chest and stared out at the yard, wondering if she should drive over to Will’s and check on his dogs. She was sure Beverly would still be sleeping, wouldn’t miss her.

But part of her didn’t want to. Not yet. Part of her didn’t want to be in Will’s house, alone, reminded that he was with someone else. And that that someone else, of all people, was Hannibal. It was two blows sewn into one, and she was happy and hurting over it all at once. The only time she forgot was when she was so buried in her work that her mind shut off except for her critical thinking-

Or when Beverly touched her. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, felt the woman’s slender hands running along her arms, pulling her into an embrace. She’d been drunk the first time, had fallen into it and hadn’t really known who to pull herself back out. Now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She _liked_ Beverly, she liked her presence and her ridiculous humor and god, what her smile did to her face. She liked how she smelled like warm cotton, and sun flowers if she had her perfume dabbed on.

But letting Beverly in, that was different from liking her. Alana didn’t know if it was love- she didn’t know if anything was, except what she saw in Hannibal’s eyes when he looked at Will. That, that was a sort of love that hadn’t ever been defined, she was sure. She was fairly sure he thought no one saw it, but she did. She’d known him long enough to see those little things clearly. But could she imagine opening herself up enough that another person fit neatly inside her, snuggled into her ribs and pressed along her spine. Could Beverly slowly become a part of her, the way Will seemed to be an extension of Hannibal now-

And, though he would never admit it, Hannibal an extension of Will?

Alana whistled to Applesauce, who trotted over and back inside with her. She relocked the door, gave the dog a pat on the head, then made her way back upstairs. She crept along the carpet, pulling the blanket back and slipping back into bed, holding her breath so Beverly wouldn’t wake up. However, a moment passed, and then Beverly was rolling onto her back, stretching, then her side to face Alana. She cracked her eyes open and gave her a lazy smile, the sweet warm kind that made Alana’s stomach erupt in butterflies.

She wanted to kiss her. Gods be damned, she wanted to kiss Beverly in that moment, always did when that smile appeared. For a moment Will was gone, Hannibal was gone, and she was laying in bed with just Beverly- there was no world outside her bedroom, there was only the sunlight streaming in and the heat of the bed. There was only this woman and her lazy smile.

“Morning,” Beverly whispered, reaching out, her hand palm up, inviting but not taking. Alana hesitated a moment, then reached out, placed her hand over Beverly’s, their palms together, Alana’s fingers brushing along the inside of her wrist.

“Good morning.” Beverly’s smile broadened, and she shifted closer, slipping her hand out from under Alana’s and running it up along her arm. The subtle touch had been the invitation, and suddenly Beverly was inside Alana’s walls. She gave her a level, calm stare, fingers brushing up Alana’s shoulder, to toy with her hair. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah,” Beverly admitted, “But it’s okay. I don’t mind.” She leaned closer, close enough that she smelled the flowers in Alana’s hair, and her breath was warm and soft against Alana’s mouth. She hesitated, the action unfinished, a kiss hanging in the air, and Alana swallowed, flicked her eyes down to Beverly’s lips, then closed the gap herself, mouth pressing very softly to Beverly’s. It was subtle, calm and ghost like, but Beverly hand wound into Alana’s hair, and suddenly Alana was clutching at Beverly shirt, slipping her fingers around the strap and trying to pull her closer.

In her mouth, Alana found peace, the kind that was laced with turmoil at the edges, until she slipped deeper, until she forgot that she was terrified of her, terrified of finding a crack that Beverly could slip into. She slipped a leg between Beverly’s bare thighs, and suddenly Beverly was rolling her onto her back, pushing herself up so she leaned over Alana, her hair falling over her shoulders, brushing along Alana’s.

When she finally pulled back, Alana’s mouth was open, her cheeks flushed. Beverly smiled at her, nudging her nose along Alana’s. “You always look so cute after I kiss you.” She giggled, leaned down and pressed her mouth lightly to Alana’s neck. “Want me to make breakfast?”

No, no Alana didn’t- she wanted Beverly to stay in bed with her. She didn’t want the reality they had bottled in this room to shatter. She didn’t want the rest of the world- it was too much to handle. She only wanted this.

She shook her head, and Beverly quirked up an eyebrow. “I want you to stay in bed,” Alana whispered, “with me,” she added, as an after thought. Beverly laughed, softly, and leaned closer, breathing against her lips before kissing her again. Alana’s mouth opened, head tipping back, and when Beverly’s tongue flicked her lower lip, she reached up and clutched at her shoulder, feeling skin and cloth, clinging. Beverly’s tongue slipped into her mouth, carefully, easing as if afraid of startling Alana. Alana pressed back against it, tasted her mouth and creeping into her own, pushed back until she was inside Beverly’s mouth, creating a bath and forth rhythm until she forgot which was mouth was her own.

One of Beverly’s hands ran along her side, bunching her t-shirt, edging it up until she felt soft skin, finger tips grazing. Alana arched as Beverly’s hand slipped under the shirt, ran up her side, her thumb grazing along the side of her breast. Beverly pulled back, slid down Alana’s body, retracting her hand and pushing Alana’s shirt up her stomach. Gently, she pressed her lips just below her navel, looking up at her, catching Alana watching and smiling as her mouth traveled up, inch by soft inch, so slowly time could have frozen and Alana could have laid there and watched forever. Her shirt was scrunched up around her ribs, and Alana sat up, grasping it with both hands and tugging it over her head, tossing it aside. Her hair fell over her shoulders, tumbling down over the gently swell of her breasts as she lay back down.

Beverly was smiling, her belly warm, sending a heat to rest between her legs. She moved, crawled right over Alana, whose legs parted so accommodate her. She pressed her mouth just below Alana’s ribs, ran her tongue up before her mouth pressed to the underside of Alana’s breast. Alana sucked in a breath, felt Beverly’s other hand cup the soft flesh of her other breast gently, stroking her thumb along it, over her nipple. Alana bit her lip, as Beverly kissed one rosy bud, before sucking it into her mouth, her thumb stroking the other, both hardening under her careful touches.

Alana’s eyes closed. She was hot, an unintended fire burning between her thighs already, embers smoldering every where Beverly touched her. Beverly’s tongue was tracing her nipple, knowing exactly how to touch her already. She had learned quickl that Alana liked things soft, tenderly. When she wanted something rough, it was obvious- she always had a way of letting Beverly know.

This was not one of those times, and Beverly was glad. She liked to take her time with Alana, draw out everything, extend her stay within her walls. There was a desire to worship every bit of the woman she found, and it excited her like nothing ever had.

Alana was arching into her touch, one hand stroking through Beverly’s hair. Beverly loved the way her fingertips worked her hair, the warmth that it spread into her scalp, down her neck. She moved her mouth to Alana’s other breast, her hand picking up where her mouth had left off, and Alana was openly moaned beneath her, a sweet song in the warm morning that had Beverly’s mind hazy, fuzzy. She couldn’t remember what else in the world there was aside of that sound.

Beverly finally pulled away, to kiss down the center of Alana’s breasts, between her ribs, and back down her navel. When her mouth stopped over the tender flesh of Alana’s belly, above the hem of her pants, Alana was lifting her hips without being asked. Beverly smiled into her skin, grasped her pants and underwear and tugged them down her slender legs, tossing them aside. She saw glimpses of white lace, and was giggling.

“I think you sleep in panties nicer than I wear on dates,” she teased, slipping back between Alana’s legs and pressing her mouth to one thigh. Alana’s blush had deepened, her mouth parted, and Beverly thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world. She kissed higher, all soft lips and tender caressed along Alana’s sensitive thigh, until she was tracing up along her hip, skating around her cunt and making Alana buck. Beverly laughed into her skin, and kissed back down, over her pubic mound, and exhaled against her waiting lips. Alana shivered, and Beverly closed the gap, pressing her mouth against her slick folds- the waiting wetness making Beverly groan- and lapped gently along her sex. Alana exhaled, ragged, hands clutching at her white sheets, and Beverly’s tongue traced along her lips, around the bud of her clit, back down again.

Alana closed his eyes, blocking out the world behind a curtain of illuminated pink and black. Beverly’s mouth was too perfect, warm and her tongue knowing- knowing exactly what Alana liked. Beverly was careful not to focus on her clit for too long, not wanting to over whelm her to the point of pain. She new exactly how to bring Alana up to that peak, the exact way to touch her. Her hands were running along her thighs as her tongue darted down, pressed against her entrance, inside it, tasted her sweetness until Beverly’s mind was spinning with need. Alana was whimpering, the blush on her cheeks creeping to her neck, a pretty pink over porcelain that Beverly could see as she looked up, tracing lips and then settling her mouth over Alana’s clit, sucking gently.

Alana bucked, gasped, ran a hand up her own stomach and over her breast, palm brushing over her nipple. She teased herself with her palm, Beverly’s tongue flicked up and over her clit, again and again and _again_ until Alana was trembling, her highs quivering beneath Beverly’s touch. Beverly sucked, carefully, pulled away just enough to lap her tongue along Alana’s lips once, twice, and then returned to her clit, those few moments enough time to cool Alana down that the touch was _perfect_ now, and she was moaning and whimpering, still dragging her palm along her breast in a way that made her chest heat up to match her cunt.

Beverly made a little pleased noise, a hum, as she circled Alana’s clit, flicked over it once, and then Alana was crying out, arching her back fully off the bed, gasping for air as she trembled with released. Beverly caressed her with her tongue through it, drank down her sounds and then the juices that leaked from her body, thirty for everything Alana could give her. Alana collapsed back to the mattress, panting, whimpering as Beverly’s tongue pressed against her entrance, her hyper sensitive lips. It was almost too much- but then Beverly was pulling back, sitting up between Alana’s lips and smiling, her lips glistening.

Alana’s blush had crept over her breasts, her skin such a perfect pink that Beverly wanted to paint her mouth in that color. She ran a hand along Alana’s thigh. “You okay down there?”

Alana nodded, wanting to laugh but unable to find her breath. She reached her hand up, motioned for Beverly to come closer, and Beverly leaned over her. Alana reached up, wrapped her arms around her neck, and pulled her down until their mouths crashed together. She licked as Beverly’s lips, tasted herself and groaned, sucking on Beverly’s lower lip, unwinding one arm to reach between them, press her hand between Beverly’s thighs. Beverly moaned, pressed down onto it as Alana rubbed her through her panties, felt her heat. Beverly pulled away from the kiss, arching up, shifting so she was straddling Alana as the woman’s fingers slipped past the cloth to rub her sex.

Beverly tossed her head back with a sigh, her hair flying around her, eyes closed. She was too worked up, too high on Alana, on the taste in her mouth, the mar Alana’s breasts had felt beneath her hands and loving mouth. It was too much, and she had gone too long with Alana not touching her- too busy, the walls too high- that she felt so _close_ already.

“Beverly,” Alana whispered, not to get her attention, but for the sake of saying her name. She knew how much Beverly liked that- seemed to like Alana remembering who she was with. She didn’t know how spot on she was. Beverly moaned, hissed out her breath, and Alana rubbed along her clit, focusing her touches, loving the way Beverly ground down into her, was trying to ride her still clothed.

Beverly tipped her head forward, her black hair cascading over her shoulders, lips parted, and pushed down on Alana harder, shaking gently. Alana’s fingers were soaked, and she dared to slip back along her cunt, push two inside Beverly and heard her cry out, her hands reaching up, sinking into her own hair and tugging, gently. Alana thrust a few times, loving the feel of slick, silken walls around her fingers, then pulled out, focused on Beverly’s clit again.

Beverly gave a sharp cry, a ragged breath laced with a groan, and she was shaking, Alana’s hand nearly soaked as she brought her through the orgasm. When Beverly slumped down she pulled away, smiling at the way Beverly tried to catch her breath. When she looked at Alana through dark eyes and heavy lashes, she was smiling through her panted breaths.

“You’re beautiful when you cum,” Beverly whispered, and Alana was blushing all over again, wondering how Beverly could think that when she had looked like a shooting star, breaking free of a constellations and showering Alana with stardust. She was almost sad when Beverly slipped off her, falling down onto her back. Alana wiped her hand along the sheet- making a mental note to change them one she got up- and rolled over, draping along Beverly, pressing her face into the small juts of Beverly’s breasts and the overly soft fabric of her tank top. She inhaled, sighed, and Beverly had an arm around her, closing her eyes for a moment, her high ebbing away.

“Do you think they’re awake?” The question shattered the nirvana that had begun to build, and Beverly was suddenly pulled back down to reality. She opened her eyes, looked at Alana, and then shook her head.

“If they’re smart, no.”

“Should I call them?”

“Definitely not.” _You have to stay here, with me._ “Leave them be, Alana. Forget for a day.”

“But I’m worried.” Beverly said, propping herself up on the pillows, Alana moving slightly with her, still laying against her chest.

“And you think I’m not?” Alana pulled away then, the tone of Beverly’s voice changing. She let her brown waves fall over her shoulders, playing along shoulders and collar bone and breasts, and stared at her. “Fuck Alana, I’m terrified for Will. I saw...I saw something. I...” She sighed, reached up, raked a hand back through her hair. “I lied to Jack, about what happened. Will wasn’t in danger when he shot Bradley. He was at point blank range, the shotgun was kicked away, and Will had broken his damn hand.”

“What?” Alana’s eyes widened. “Beverly- you have to-“

“Do not even say it.” Beverly sighed. “My story stays. I’m not telling Jack that. Honestly, I’m glad Will shot the bastard. I’d rather have him dead.”

“Who are we to say who lives and dies?” Alana’s face was serious, her eyes dark, a deep blue that Beverly knew meant she was angry.

“After all the death he caused, you can’t make me feel bad over this. And it’s not even the action that worries me- Will said something to him. Said something like he was better than Bradley. And his eyes..” She shook her head. “I just don’t want him to break. I don’t want him to...to hurt someone he shouldn’t.”

“He shouldn’t hurt _anyone_.”

“Maybe those who deserve it,” Beverly whispered, “Maybe those bastards that are just so sick, they make you wonder how they can even _be_ human. It must feel good, doing bad things to bad people.” Alana didn’t respond, just frowned, then crawled out of bed, stalking out of the room naked. Beverly heard the bathroom door slam shut, and sighed, feeling like she had been thrown from the top fo Alana’s castle to the hard ground below.

*

Beverly made a point to not be in the house when Alana finished her shower. She changed into a pair of running leggings and a fresh tank top, grabbed Applesauce and her leash, and took her out for a run. The air was fresh from the night’s rain, the sun bright and warm. Beverly tried to let it chase away her thoughts, but she could see Will’s eyes inside her mind, heard the slam of the bathroom door.

Her chest ached, because she didn’t think she was wrong. Doing bad things to bad people- there was a satisfaction in that, a justice that she could get behind. Bradley Madison had deserved what he got. She wanted to kiss Will for shooting him, as badly as she wanted to slap him.

She reasoned she had to be right. She hadn’t felt remorse when Matthew Barker had ended up dead. She had felt relief, a sort of joy that the man who had traumatized Will so vilely could never take another breath again.

*

Alana found her house empty when she stepped out of the shower. She walked to her bedroom, looked at the unmade bed where Beverly had been, and turned away, rummaging around for jeans and a shirt. Once dressed, she looked back again, sucking her lip into her mouth. She walked over to the bed, fell down onto it, and pressed her face into Beverly’s pillow, inhaling, angry at herself for storming out. Angry at herself for so many things.

*

Alana had forced herself up and was in her living room, papers out along her small coffee table when Beverly came back into the house, freeing Applesauce from her leash. The dog trotted into the living room, just as Alana came walking briskly out, meeting Beverly at the door. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and there was the lightest layer of sweat along her neck and collar bone, her cheeks slightly colored. She was pretty, Alana knew it, in that moment. Just like when she smiled.

Beverly was always pretty, but sometimes Alana forgot to look.

“Good run?” Beverly nodded. “How about some breakfast? Even something light, you haven’t eaten much.”

“I’ll make it after I shower.” Her voice wasn’t cold, but it lacked the warmth that could envelope Alana. She gave a weak smile, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

“Shower and I’ll do it, okay?” She leaned forward, placed her lips to Beverly’s cheek, then headed for the kitchen.

She had set breakfast out by the time Beverly came down, shortly after. Fluffy scrambled eggs and half a grape fruit. The coffee she was brewing strung its sent through out the house, and Beverly’s stomach rumbled as she sat down. She accepted the mug of coffee Alana handed her with a soft thank you, and Alana sat down next to her, taking a sip.

“I’m...sorry about earlier,” she admitted, “About storming out. That was childish.”

“You were upset, I understand.” Beverly reached out, covered Alana’s hand with her own. “But you owe me.”

“Owe you what?”

“Those cuddles that were interrupted.” She grinned. “You know I’m a snuggle fiend in the morning.” Beverly winked, and Alana laughed, turning away as Beverly stuffed a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

“Can we be serious for a minute?” Beverly raised an eyebrow. “About...Will.” Alana took a deep breath. “He needs someone to talk to. He needs...”

“Therapy?” Alana nodded, and Beverly set her fork down. “Alana...last time...”

“I know.” Alana’s stomach dropped, and suddenly breakfast felt like a bad idea. “I know what happened last time.”

“Then you know he won’t agree to see anyone. Not unless Hannibal resumes his therapy as well.”

“Hannibal can’t. He can’t ever be Will’s therapist. They can talk, but they’re too intimate for that now. It has to be someone he doesn’t have an attachment to.” She sighed. “I know I can’t suggest it tho. After Matthew...” Beverly was nodding, squeezing Alana’s hand. “Maybe if Hannibal agreed.”

“But would he?” Alana shrugged a shoulder.

“Maybe. If he thinks our concern for Will has ground. I might be able to convince him. I want your honest opinion, Beverly...do you think he should talk to someone?”

Beverly pulled her hand back, wrapping both around her mug of coffee. She saw Will’s steel eyes, the blackness leaking into him, heard his harsh whisper in her mind, and her throat tightened. She nodded, slowly. “Yeah...maybe just for a short time. But it has to be someone he’s comfortable with. And we can’t tell him to do it. I’m....concerned about him. I trust Hannibal to keep him in a good place, but...but I don’t want him to get to a point where Hannibal has to pull him out of anything.”

Alana nodded. “Let’s go see them, we can talk about it-“

Beverly let go of her mug, turning and reaching for both of Alana’s hands, taking them in her own. Her thumbs stroked over Alana’s knuckles in a soothing way. “Relax, Alana.” She leaned closer, smiled at her. “Tomorrow is another day. Give Will and Hannibal one more day. Give Will a chance to breath. I’m sure he’s still curled up with Hannibal right now, and he wouldn’t want to be disturbed. Besides, I don’t quite feel like the long drive to Baltimore.” She stroked along Alana’s knuckles again. “We’ll go to Will’s tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll be home sometime today- he probably misses his dogs.”

Alana nodded, and Beverly lifted her hands, kissed each one. Her eyes had a glimmer to them, an affection that was making Alana’s stomach tighten, and she was in bed all over again, loving Beverly’s lazy smile and wanting to kiss her.

“Now, let’s finished breakfast and get Applesauce in the car and go check on the dogs. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see them. Then,” she released Alana’s hands, and Alana instantly missed the warmth, the solid hold she had been a silent grounding force. “When we get back, we are crawling back into bed.” She grinned, smiled all the way up to her eyes, and Alana lost her breath, clutching down at her jeans to see if she was even real in that moment. Her breath refused to leave her throat, and Alana could only realized that that crack so was so afraid of Beverly finding and creeping in through had been there for some time- that it was a split now, all the way down her center, and Beverly had one hand inside her rib cage already.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I can write two women in bed too, who would've thought.


End file.
